


the road not taken (looks real good now)

by 1VulgarWoman



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Exes to Lovers, F/M, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, Loosely inspired by Persuasion, Modern AU, No Underage Sex, Smut, Some Gochi, Vegebul, high school sweethearts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 05:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1VulgarWoman/pseuds/1VulgarWoman
Summary: She would have recognized his face anywhere. After all, she’d spent what must have added up to hours of her young life staring at it, committing every detail to memory. But the boy she’d once pined over bore only a passing resemblance to the man in front of her now.Bulma is back in her home town for Goku and Chichi's wedding, disillusioned with having little to show for her twenties besides a failed engagement and a couple dead-end jobs. So propositioning her high school boyfriend certainly wouldn't be the worst mistake she's ever made. Right?A story about self-compassion, love, and second chances.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	the road not taken (looks real good now)

Bulma rolled her suitcase to a stop in the center of her childhood bedroom, then let her carry-on bag slide down her shoulder onto the floor beside it. 

“It’s exactly like you left it,” her mother said, chipper as ever. “Isn’t that wonderful, dear?”

“Mm-hm,” Bulma grunted not very convincingly, but she knew it would be enough to placate Bunny. Truthfully, the amount of purple her fifteen-year-old self had packed into a single room was a little unsettling. 

Bulma could tell her mother would like to say more, but, instead, she just smiled and backed toward the door, giving Bulma space to decompress without her having to say a word. Bunny was better at reading people than she usually got credit for. 

“I’ll let you settle in while I finish up dinner. Come down when you’re ready, dear.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Bulma offered her mother the warmest smile she could muster. 

Bunny paused with her hand on the doorknob and said, “I’m so glad my baby’s back at home.” 

Bulma mustered a placating smile. “Me too, Mom.” She released a weary sigh as the door closed, and she was left alone to settle in. 

Bulma put her hands on her hips and looked around the room, feeling like she'd stepped through a time vortex. Her mother hadn’t been kidding when she said it was exactly as she'd left it, right down to the curling Justin Bieber posters pinned to the wall and stacks of old Teen Vogue and Cosmo issues on every flat surface. 

It made her feel strangely vulnerable, standing in the room she had occupied as a younger, less jaded, version of herself. She felt like she was visiting the final resting place of teenage Bulma’s hopes and dreams, only she hadn’t known that’s what it would become when she left it behind. And now she was back, still no closer to having things figured out than she had been the day she left for college. 

She sighed, half tempted to slip in between her lavender sheets and never come out again. If she hadn’t promised Chichi she’d meet her for drinks in a couple hours, she might have done just that, at least until late the next morning. 

Bulma tossed her suitcase onto the bed and flipped it open, taking out the clear plastic garment bag that was folded on top and carrying it over to the closet. Inside, her maid of honor dress for Chichi’s wedding taunted her with a fresh reminder that everyone else was moving forward with their lives, and she was right back where she started. Literally and figuratively. 

It was beautiful dress, though. Pale peach satin with lace overlay on the bust and a midi-length skirt that showed off her trim claves and ankles. She might be the epitome of the cliche “always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” but at least she would look damn good doing it. 

As she stepped into the closet to hang up her dress, something crunched under her foot, and she stooped down to see what it was. Her smile turned wistful as she scooped up her old corsage, the once beautiful rosettes now crumbling and brown. 

She’d been so happy that night. Young and beautiful and full of excitement and hope for the future, glowing with the naive optimism of first love. 

Bulma scooped the broken petals into her palm and dropped the whole thing in the trash can before rummaging through her suitcase for something girl’s-night-appropriate to change into. 

A beige faux-wrap mini skirt - one of her favorites - caught her eye, and she pulled it on, along with a matching blazer and cropped cami underneath. Slip-on sandals with low kitten heels completed the look. She felt modern and sexy and much less like she’d spent the last ten years of her life running on a treadmill, exhausting herself physically and emotionally, and, ultimately, getting nowhere.

Bulma braced herself to put up a positive front for the next few hours, first with her parents, and then, to a lesser extent, with ChiChi. Hopefully, her mother had opened one of the good bottles of wine to accompany their dinner. She was going to need all the liquid fortification she could get.

~~~

Bulma glanced down at the time on her phone as she slid onto an empty barstool. She wasn’t supposed to meet Chichi for another ten minutes, but that was fine. A few moments alone to decompress after dinner with her parents certainly couldn’t do her any harm.

She ordered a vodka soda with lemon from the bartender and let her eyes drift around the room while she sipped through one of those ridiculously tiny straws. For a Thursday night, Kami’s was fairly busy. There were only a few empty stools scattered around the long, curved bar, and most of the tables were full. 

The walls were lined with flat-screen TVs showing various ball games and other forms of competitive nonsense Bulma didn’t give a fig about, but she liked that most of the other patrons’ eyes were glued to them, allowing her to people watch unobserved. She crossed her legs and sipped casually at her drink, indulging in her favored pastime of silently judging humanity. 

Her life might not exactly be what most would call “in order,” but few things made her feel better about that than picking apart men’s clothing choices. Why they all kept wearing their boring polo shirts long after the faded collars were permanently curled up at the ends, she’d never understand. 

Her eyes narrowed a little as they rounded the corner of the bar, and she caught a brief glimpse of an strikingly familiar face. The man in question leaned back in his seat, long fingers still fiddling with the glass he’d just sipped from. She recognized those fingers. They were thicker, tanner, and more weathered, but she would have known them anywhere. 

She leaned forward on her stool to try to see around a couple of frat boys who were blocking her view. As if the universe itself had taken pity on her plight, the two _bro’s _got up a few moments later and headed for the pool table, clearing the way for her to confirm that her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on her.__

____

____

She was looking at an adult version of the boy who had been her first love; the one who had shyly presented her with the corsage she’d found in her closet earlier. 

Vegeta was quite a bit bigger now than when she’d seen him last at their high-school graduation, wider, the muscles of his arms and chest beautifully defined. His dark hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, nearly brushing his shoulders. 

She would have recognized his face anywhere. After all, she’d spent what must have added up to hours of her young life staring at it, committing every detail to memory. But the boy she’d once pined over bore only a passing resemblance to the man in front of her now. 

He’d always been attractive in her eyes, but now he was drop-dead _gorgeous. ___

____

____

Vegeta’s sharp eyes cut away from the screen they’d been fixed on, zeroing in on her as if he’d felt her disbelieving stare. To his credit, if he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him, he didn’t show it. He casually lifted his lowball glass in her direction before tossing back the last of the amber liquid inside.

Bulma watched his throat work as he swallowed, suddenly needing to take a long pull from her own drink. Vegeta slammed his glass down and stood, tossing a couple bills down beside it before moving in her direction. 

When he failed to meet her eyes again, Bulma half expected him to walk right past her and out the door. It’s not like she wouldn’t have deserved it. But, instead, he turned at the last second and approached her, leaning one elbow casually on the bar. 

“Bulma Briefs,” he rasped in greeting, the deep, sandpapery sound of his voice making her shiver. The corner of his lips quirked up in a grin that still held that subtle hint of mischief her teenage self had swooned over. The effect was even more potent now.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, only to have her senses overwhelmed by the delicious scent of deodorant and _manliness. _He smelled almost as good as he looked, which was really saying something. A simple v-neck tee had never done anyone so many favors.__

____

____

“H-hi,” she managed to stutter as she slid down from her barstool to pull him into an awkward one-armed hug, one that Vegeta clearly hadn’t been expecting. He stiffened for a moment, then lightly patted her on the back before they stepped apart.

“You got taller,” Bulma blurted, making herself cringe with her own verbal diarrhea. One would think ten years, a failed engagement, and two dead-end jobs would have made her less of an awkward mess around him, but that seemed to be the one thing about either of them that hadn’t changed. 

Vegeta chuckled — a warm, rich sound she felt all the way down to her toes — and crossed his arms over his defined chest. “Not by much.” 

Bulma smiled, conceding his point with a small nod of her head. “At least I’m not taller than you in heels now.” She pointed down at her shoes, and his eyes followed. The way they seemed to get caught on her bare legs and cleavage on the way back up to her face felt incredibly satisfying. 

“Hmm,” he grunted, his gaze going a little unfocused as they observed one another in silence. He raised a big hand and briefly pointed at her face. “No more glasses.”

Bulma laughed, a hint of warmth blossoming on her cheeks. “LASIK is a modern miracle.” 

Something in Vegeta’s expression shifted, and she almost thought she saw him glance down at her mouth. But he stiffened and looked away before she could be sure, clearing his throat. 

“I should get going,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Oh.” Bulma’s smile faltered, and she tried to muscle it back into place. She realized she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. “Okay,” she forced herself to say, pushing down the urge to ask him to stay and catch up. “It was really good seeing you.”

“You too,” he responded automatically, leaving her not at all convinced that he meant it. He seemed suddenly desperate to be out of her presence. “See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya around.”

Bulma started to lean in for another hug, but Vegeta only touched her lightly on the shoulder as he brushed past. She turned to watch him go — finding the back view every bit as delicious as the front had been — and saw that Chichi had just stepped inside.

“Hey, Vegeta.” 

“Chichi,” he said brusquely as he stepped around her on his way out the door.

The sight of her lifelong friend cured most of Bulma’s disappointment, bringing a genuine smile back to her face.

“What was that all about,” the dark-haired beauty asked as she stepped into Bulma’s outstretched arms. 

“Who knows.” Bulma shrugged as she pulled back from the hug. “Maybe he has diarrhea .”

Both women laughed as they took their seats at the bar. 

Chichi found an empty hook to hang her purse on, then turned to Bulma with an arched brow. “I’m sure it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the girl who broke his heart is here, looking smokin’ hot and just as out his league as ever.”

“Don’t say that, Chi.” Bulma’s smile faltered at her friend’s harsh words, and she had to remind herself that Vegeta wasn’t hers to defend anymore and hadn’t been for quite some time. “I mean, not the smokin’ hot part. You can say that all you want.” 

“I speak only the truth.” Chichi winked.

The two friends giggled like the school girls they had once been before falling into easy conversation. Chichi quickly filled her in on the state of the wedding plans. There wasn’t too much detail to give, since she and Goku — her fiancé and childhood sweetheart — had decided to keep things simple. There would be a small celebration in the gym of the high-school where they met, but first, they would be married at the courthouse with only immediate family and their closest friends present. This, of course, included Bulma as maid of honor. 

Bulma’s stomach swooped as it suddenly occurred to her that Chichi had never mentioned who Goku had chosen to be his best man. She gathered her courage to ask, though she had a sinking feeling she already knew what the answer would be.

Chichi gave her a sympathetic look that confirmed her suspicions before she’d even spoken the answer. “Vegeta.”

Bulma nodded, using her straw to push the ice around in her glass while she came to grips with the fact that, in a week, she’d be standing in the courthouse across from her first love, trying not to think about how she’d once imagined saying those vows to him.

“I’m sorry, B.” Chichi rubbed her arm consolingly. 

“No reason to be.” Bulma shook her head, forcing her expression to lighten. “That’s ancient history, anyway. We were just kids.”

“Yeah, but…”

“There’s no ‘but,’ Chichi. Really.” Bulma shook her head again, more forcefully this time. “It’s just some silly nostalgia brought on by being back in this godforsaken town. If things had worked out differently in the past ten years, I wouldn’t be feeling this way at all.”

“You mean with Yamcha?”

Bulma sighed. “With Yamcha. With my career. With everything.”

Chichi looked pensive, her mouth opening and closing a few times like she was trying to choose her words carefully. “I don’t know if this question is allowed, but…Do you ever regret breaking up with Vegeta?”

“No,” Bulma blurted, realizing by the skeptical look on Chichi’s face that she’d reacted too strongly, given away more than she’d wanted to. She carefully moderated her tone and tried to walk things back. “No, of course, I don’t regret it. We were so young. I’m not naive enough to think we wouldn’t have broken up eventually.”

Chichi arched an eloquent brow. “You say that, but look at me and Goku.”

“You and Goku are the disgustingly cute exception that proves the rule.” Bulma nudged the other woman with her elbow. 

“We are pretty fantastic, right?” Chichi preened. They both laughed, and Bulma was grateful for the lightened mood. 

Before she could hurriedly come up with another topic to steer to conversation toward, the bartender appeared to take Chichi’s order. She through Bulma a sly glance before asking for a diet soda. 

Bulma sat up straighter in her seat, fixing her friend with a look that demanded an explanation. “Chichi…?” 

The other woman decided to play coy. “What?” She shrugged.

“You know what.” Bulma continued glaring at her as the requested soft drink appeared. 

“Well,” Chichi began, pausing to take a long sip of her soda for dramatic effect. “Let’s just say, I’m glad the wedding is only a week away. Any longer, and I might not fit into my dress.”

Bulma’s delighted squeal drew the eyes of every other patron in the bar, but she couldn’t have cared less. “Oh, my God! I’m so happy for you two.” She threw her arms around her friend’s shoulders in an exuberant hug. 

“We were going to wait until next year to start trying,” Chichi explained as they pulled apart, “but I guess life had other plans.”

The two women launched into an animated conversation about baby names and nursery decor, and, though Bulma was truly ecstatic for her dear friends, she couldn’t help but wonder if life had any other plans in store for her.


End file.
